


baby, you're a work of art

by mitsukyu



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Body Paint, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Writing on the Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukyu/pseuds/mitsukyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungyoon tries to wrap up the ice inside of him and Mino paints him on fire.</p>
<p>or, The assignment is to find the ugliest thing you can and turn it into art. Mino picks Seungyoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, you're a work of art

**Author's Note:**

> thank you A for the prompt and thoughts. ilu ilu ilu
> 
> I plucked the idea of seungyoon-with-self-esteem-issues from his cover of 2ne1's ugly. I ran with it and it exploded and set the house on fire and killed the whole family and the dog. o o p s. (seungyoon is so beautiful it hurts me a little)

"Kang Seungyoon." Mino smiled. Too many teeth. He sat down on the narrow bed next to him, slung an arm around his shoulders. "Kang Seungyoon, do you want to be my project?" 

No.

 

 

 

"We've been assigned a new project," Taehyun explained as he came tumbling into the tiny dorm room the two of them shared. A wave of noise and nervous energy, Song Mino in tow. Taehyun was already frantic, blond hair floating outwards like a dandelion, arms gesturing wildly. He and Mino were always loud. Less discussing and more shouting ideas at each other. Each too blinded by their own to listen to the other. 

Deafened, rather. Seungyoon crossed out a line. Another. Then he put away his notebook and his guitar. He wouldn't be able to get more composing done. Certainly no more lyrics. He let his fingertips rest on the body of his instrument a moment longer. Why did art students have to be so loud?

Mino had brought drinks for them all, thin plastic bag swinging from his arm. He handed them out. Bottled tea for himself and Taehyun, soda for Seungyoon. It was the cherry one he liked. Taehyun stood aimlessly in the middle of the room, hands fluttering. He got into moods sometimes, on the brink of a new project, new ideas. Not quite there yet but yearning to grasp them, to run with them. 

"God, what am I going to do?" he muttered, fingers combing through his hair. 

"What's the project?" Seungyoon asked, between sips of soda. 

"Find the ugliest thing we can and turn it into art," Taehyun said flatly, flopping down onto his own bed and folding his legs under him. He huffed, clearly annoyed by the assignment. After three years of sharing a dorm room, Seungyoon knew him well enough to know that by tonight Taehyun would be all but vibrating with inspiration. 

He glanced up at Mino to share a knowing smile. He liked Song Mino. He liked it when he was around. It wasn't that they were very close. He was the loud and cheerful friend of a friend, if anything. He probably wasn't interested in being Seungyoon's friend, in particular. Nevertheless. He felt there was a sort of... if not a connection, a mutual respect born from a shared responsibility. Together, they kept Taehyun mostly sane. Their combined efforts kept his feet firmly on the ground, even if his head was in the clouds. That should be enough, he told himself. 

He glanced up at Mino and that was his mistake. Mino grinned and came over. He sat down on Seungyoon's bed and leaned into him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. Seungyoon leaned back easily against Mino's larger frame. Taehyun was never much for casual hugs and touches. Seungyoon enjoyed the bit of comfort they gave. It made him feel less lonely. 

"Kang Seungyoon." Mino's smile was close and Seungyoon returned it cheerfully. 

"What do you think? Of the project?" Seungyoon asked. He finished his soda, toying with the empty bottle. "Do you know what you're going to do?" 

"I know what I want to do," Mino teased. His voice sounded cute, Seungyoon thought at the time. His smile looked razor sharp, he thought later. 

"Kang Seungyoon, you be my project." His voice was cute and there was a challenge in his eyes, in the lift of his brows, and something inside Seungyoon turned to ice. 

"Rude," he managed after a beat. A beat too long. He choked out a laugh and elbowed Mino in the side. Less hard than he wanted to, more careful. It was a joke. A stupid joke. Laugh. 

"You're rude, Seungyoon-ah," Mino countered. The elbow to the side hadn't made him move back. He moved closer instead, resting his chin on Seungyoon's shoulder. Seungyoon swallowed. 

"Why am I rude?" he demanded. "Because I said no?" The incredulous tone was good, he thought. The nervous laugh which followed less so. He could feel Taehyun watching them. This would've been a good time to come to his rescue, Seungyoon thought. Mino was his friend, after all. Maybe he was already off with the art project fairies. Maybe he just didn't care. Mino tilted his head.

"You never did say no," he said. He lowered his voice, almost a whisper in his ear, "I found your lyrics. It was an accident. I thought it was Taehyun's stuff. But I read some of them. Aren't they _your_ words, Seungyoon-ah?" 

Seungyoon bit his lip until he could taste blood. Then he laughed. He should laugh, he thought, because he shouldn't cry. It came out easier now, smoothly. He didn't look at Mino until the other leaned away. He felt his hand touch his shoulder briefly, warmth seeping through his shirt.

"So I'll see you at the studio tomorrow for practice, yeah?" 

"Fine." He smiled as widely as he possibly could, his lips stretched almost painfully. Just to make sure his voice came out right. 

 

 

 

"Are you okay?" Taehyun asked. It was two in the morning and he was halfway through a painting and two thirds through a roll of film. Their floor would be a good contender for project inspiration. Seungyoon was playing, trying to coax the right song out of his guitar. His fingers were starting to hurt. 

"I'm fine," he murmured. He felt drunk with exhaustion but he couldn't sleep. "Fingers getting stiff," he added. He'd started missing notes. Small imperfections. They jarred. They had probably jarred Taehyun out of his inspiration induced daze. He should apologize, maybe. 

He didn't. 

Taehyun's brush stilled, hovering over the canvas. 

"It's not what I meant," he said, casting a quick look over his shoulder. Seungyoon's fingers stilled. Taehyun put his brush down, but didn't turn around to face him and for that Seungyoon was glad. He still squirmed, pressing the balls of his hands against his eyes. 

"Did you read it?" he asked.

"No," Taehyun answered gently. "Mino wouldn't let me." 

Seungyoon nodded. 

"Thanks," he said, because if Taehyun would have wanted to he could have read his notebooks at any time. Their classes didn't match up and he spent enough time alone in the room. "They're just... private. Personal," he settled on. 

Taehyun nodded. An intake of breath, like he was going to say something else. 

Nothing. 

"I'm going to sleep," Seungyoon announced after several moments of shared silence. He struggled upright, stripping out of his clothes. 

"Hyung," Taehyun began. 

"Hm?" he glanced over as he stepped out of his jeans. Taehyun hadn't picked up his brush again. "Go to sleep, Taehyun. You should rest too. Another day tomorrow," he said. Taehyun ignored this.

"Have you ever looked at mine? My sketchbooks," he asked instead. Seungyoon paused. 

"No," he said. "They're personal as well, aren't they?" 

Taehyun hummed. 

"Yes," he said finally. "But maybe I'll show you sometime, anyway." 

 

 

 

Anyway, why should Seungyoon care Song Mino thought he was ugly? Why the hell should he care? Mino was right, Seungyoon already knew he was. It made no difference to anything whatsoever that Mino agreed with him. He didn't care. 

 

 

 

He cared. Mino leaned in and smiled at him and Seungyoon cared. 

 

 

 

He wanted to set fire to all his notebooks and burn the words out of Mino's mind. It was different, when they were personal, when he wrote them and when he sang them. In someone else's mouth they made him feel weak. 

 

 

 

Ugly.

 

 

 

~~Ugly.~~

 

 

 

_Ugly._

 

 

 

It felt strange, Seungyoon thought, sitting in the studio, looking down at his feet. Not bad, necessarily. But definitely strange. 

The embarrassment felt terrible, however. He wasn't even sure why he had come. Only he'd said he would. Also it was Mino and sometimes Seungyoon did stupid things for Mino. 

 

 

 

Usually this meant things like crawling out of bed at three in the morning at Mino's insistent whispering. He was so dazed the only thing that kept him on his feet were Mino's arms, his hands on his elbows. 

"We need to go save Taehyun," Mino explained. He smiled as he said it but it was still enough to make Seungyoon grapple around for shoes and a shirt and follow him out the door in under five minutes.

Often, saving Taehyun turned into saving him from drinking alone by drinking together. One time they'd all gotten themselves arrested which made Seungyoon seriously doubt how effective these rescue missions were. 

Mino had looked at him, an embarrassed little smile that said they were in this together.

A week later he let Mino pull him upright again in the darkness of two thirty in the morning. Taehyun was important, after all. Taehyun could be difficult; he never let anyone tell him what to do. Mino was probably afraid to go without backup. 

Seungyoon liked feeling needed. 

 

 

 

Seungyoon did stupid things because Song Mino interlaced their fingers and pulled him along. Seungyoon did stupid things and felt like he was flying. He'd never before done anything because Mino had asked with a smile that turned to razor blades, cutting him up from the inside every time he closed his eyes. 

He'd also never stripped to his underwear before and sat quietly while Mino -- while _anyone_ \-- smoothed fingers and paint brushes over his skin. His toes curled involuntarily. Mino's hand tightened briefly around his ankle, as if to steady him. Seungyoon watched his feet turn blue and green and gold.

The paint felt strange. Cold and sticky. Unfamiliar. Mino sat on the floor in front of him. He'd rested Seungyoon's feet on his own folded leg and Seungyoon could feel the warmth of him seep up through his soles. It was more distracting than the wet chill of the paint. 

Gold crawled up his legs, blue turning purple turning red. He wanted to ask Mino what he was painting but didn't know how. He watched in silence instead. Mino touched his knee, nudging his legs further apart. 

Halfway up his thighs and he still didn't know if it was anything other than screams of color fading and curling into one another but he thought it was beautiful. He traced the swirls with his eyes, pink and bright red, to distract himself from Mino's fingers pressing dimples in his flesh.   
   
"It's music," he decided at last, after ages, a hundred years, voice cracking from disuse. Mino looked up from where he was dragging his brush across Seungyoon's collarbone. His eyebrows quirked in surprise. 

"Music?" he asked. Seungyoon waved one hand to indicate the whole symphony of color covering his body. 

"Tell me," Mino said, smiling to himself as he resumed painting, "tell me what it sounds like." 

 

 

 

He stood in the shower and watched rainbows wash away. He wrote the song, page after page covered in black ink notes like footprints, until he fell asleep at his desk. 

 

 

 

Seungyoon wrapped the ice inside in thick blankets and tried to breathe. Mino painted a sun on his cheek, tongue sticking out as he drew painstaking yellow beams over Seungyoon's nose and chin. Seungyoon laughed and Mino gasped in mock horror as the line towards his mouth went crooked. 

"Are you even taking this seriously?" Seungyoon asked and wished all of this was a joke. Mino scoffed and drew a rainbow on the other cheek. 

 

 

 

The third time Mino painted him on fire. Seungyoon wondered if somehow Mino knew about the ice and that thought made it more difficult to smother and ignore it. How much of Seungyoon's feelings had he pried out of his words? 

"Fire?" he prompted eventually as even the spaces between his fingers blazed red. The paint was starting to feel familiar but the entire process still had him continuously off balance. Every breath felt like too big a movement. Mino grinned proudly. 

"Red's your favorite, right? And it suits you." 

It wasn't an answer. Mino must know about the ice. Mino continued painting and Seungyoon tried to keep his hands from tensing into nervous fists. 

 

 

 

He stared at his arms and his legs, holding them up and angling them to catch the light. In the morning his sheets were covered in burn marks bright in red and orange and yellow. 

 

 

 

It wasn't the closest he'd ever been to another person, but it was the closest he'd ever been to another person while not comfortably wrapped in their arms, sharing kisses. He'd never been gazed at so intently, every inch of skin mapped out. He could feel Mino's breath tickle his skin when he exhaled. It was both disconcerting and the most intimate experience in his life and Seungyoon felt like he could barely breathe at all. 

The fire had sunk into Seungyoon's skin and today there was a restlessness in his chest that felt like anger. 

"Do you think I'm beautiful already?" he asked as Mino painted feathers along his jaw. He imagined he could feel the thin brush skidding off course. 

"Always," Mino replied simply and Seungyoon pressed his lips into a tight line. Don't lie, he wanted to say, work harder. But Mino's face, frowned in concentration, was beautiful and Seungyoon didn't want to see the razorblade smile again. 

 

 

 

One day there were no colors for Mino to hesitate over, fingers hovering over the rainbow of tubes, head to one side as he considered Seungyoon. Seungyoon imagined in these moments that Mino, too, was listening to the music of what the colors combined should sound like. He'd select a purple and Seungyoon would start to compose the melody in his head as he stilled to become Mino's canvas. With each color that was added, their song changed.

Today there was only a thick, shiny black. Seungyoon frowned at it, nervously gripping the hem of his shirt. 

"Last thing I need to practice," Mino said, clattering around as he set things up. He looked up and caught Seungyoon's frown. "Calligraphy," he explained. 

"Oh. Why?" Seungyoon asked. He'd never asked much explanation before. Partly because he still wasn't sure how to ask, wasn't sure how to speak Art. Wasn't sure how to speak to Mino here, now. Partly because he didn't mind colors. 

He minded words.

Mino shrugged and smiled. 

"I have big plans," he said, pressing a finger against his lips. Mino having secret plans worried him. Seungyoon still stripped off his clothes when instructed. 

Mino kneeled in front of him. He pressed the brush to the paper pale skin of his side and paused. 

"What do I write?" he asked, looking up at Seungyoon. Seungyoon folded his arms, trying to hide his discomfort. 

"You went through all these lengths and now you don't know what to write?" 

"Yep," Mino admitted easily, flashing him a peace sign. 

"You're hopeless," Seungyoon scolded. Don't ask me, he thought. 

"What do I write, Seungyoon-ah?" Mino insisted. He was sitting back on his haunches, rocking back and forth as he whined. He almost overbalanced, falling into Seungyoon, face pressed against his stomach. Seungyoon took a hurried step back.

"Just write my name," Seungyoon said. It was the simplest thing he could think of. He didn't want to give Mino any other words. 

Mino grinned and painted thick black stripes across his stomach and side that spelled Kang Seung Yoon. He didn't ask for any more words when he finished. 

He moved behind him. 

"Can you feel what I'm writing?" he asked. Seungyoon could feel the wet chill of the paint on the back of his leg, the almost-tickle of the brush. He tried to follow the strokes. 

"No. I don't know," he said finally when the brush stopped and Mino waited expectantly. He twisted around to look. 

"Don't write _your_ name on me!" he protested indignantly and Mino laughed so hard he really did fall over this time. 

He wrote Seungyoon full of thick black paint and nonsense. Nasi goreng on his right arm, milk right below his collar bone. His left leg got covered in titles of rap songs Seungyoon had never heard of. The name of Mino's cat on his right foot. The word sunshine circled his knee. 

There was no music in his head today. He watched the careful strokes of Mino's letters upside down instead. Stark against his skin, despite the words they were surprisingly pretty. 

 

 

 

The hot water was already running. He craned his neck to look at his back in the bathroom mirror. There was only one word, stretching from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back. 

It was a banal enough word, he told himself as he let the warm water beat down on him. He'd heard it a million times in songs, wrote it a hundred times himself. It hardly even meant anything anymore. 

It didn't mean anything at all, he repeated, trying to unclench his fists. It was all a bad joke. 

 

 

 

Seungyoon wasn't the type to destroy things. He'd watched Taehyun wreck their room in frustration before, rip up paintings he'd spent hours on. Seungyoon could never bring himself to do it, not even in his worst moments when he wanted wanted _wanted_ to tear the entire world to shreds. 

So he screamed and punched his pillow until he was exhausted and Taehyun wrapped his arms tight around him. He didn't have the energy to try and laugh this time. 

 

 

 

"Can you come early?" Mino sounded frantic over the phone, nervous in a way Seungyoon had never heard him before but recognized from Taehyun. He glanced at his watch. He'd have to hurry. 

"Fine," he said. "I'll be there in a bit." 

Practice was over. 

 

 

 

He was barely through the door when Mino was on him, hands on his shoulders, hurrying him through to the back. 

"What's all this about?" He tried unsuccessfully to shrug Mino off. 

"Preparation," Mino said breathlessly, releasing his grip on him. He'd already set out his supplies. "Clothes," he prompted. 

"Yes, yes," Seungyoon muttered. He struggled out of his shirt. He was nervous, as usual, stomach tight and fluttery. Mino, for the first time, looked like he was about to pass out. 

Seungyoon wasn't sure, yet, if this wild eyed rush was better or worse than the silent intimacy of before. 

"Is this even allowed?" he asked curiously. He'd already stilled obediently as Mino started to paint his back. He worked from the shoulders down. Seungyoon wondered at that. It was a first. 

"Yes, it's fine, it's just your back. It's just -- just this -- groundwork, you know," Mino said destractedly, not pausing for a second. It felt like the calligraphy had felt, sort of, only smaller. Scribbling, scrawling. He wondered idly what it was. More rap songs or a grocery list. He was prepared to tense up and step away -- would he? -- at the first sensation of a big bold _love_ , Mino's artistic vision be dammed. But only the tiny scribbles continued, down his back and down his legs, down the back of his arms. Mino reached for colors and Seungyoon started to wonder if it wasn't writing at all. Doodles to be refined later, perhaps. 

Mino's breathing was hurried, louder than normal. Seungyoon was restless and bored. He didn't understand art like this. He found himself wanting the colors back he could listen to. He wanted to get lost in their music. 

He still hadn't decided whether today was better or worse. There was something to be said, he told himself sternly, for detached boredom. 

"Done," Mino sighed. He sounded like he'd run a marathon. Before Seungyoon could so much as move, Mino was pressing his shirt and pants in his arms. "Clothes. Put them back on for now."

Seungyoon frowned. He rolled his shoulders, trying to feel if the paint was dry already. "Won't it--," he started. 

"I put it on really thin. It's fine. Just put them back on for now," he repeated, making hurrying motions. Seungyoon shrugged and started to dress himself. He was almost quick enough that Mino didn't find it necessary to help him, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. Almost. 

"Are you sure this was allowed?" he asked plaintively, voice muffled by fabric as the shirt got stuck. 

"Perfecty," Mino promised. He ran a hand through his hair and took another shuddering breath. "Don't worry." 

Seungyoon followed him as Mino led him away from the relative quiet and parked him on a chair against the wall of a more bustling room. Mino grabbed his backpack from one of the tables. He rummaged around in it until he unearthed a bottle of Seungyoon's favorite soda. 

"Thank you for coming early," he said, handing him the soda. "Just wait here for a bit. Sorry, it's probably not cold anymore. " 

"It's fine," Seungyoon said and he meant it. He settled in to watch the other art students have their own nervous breakdowns all around him. 

 

 

 

He didn't know where Mino went in the intervening hour. Hysterics in the bathroom, Taehyun suggested when he came to sit with Seungyoon to eat a quick lunch. Hysterics or not, Mino's earlier jitters had disappeared, to be replaced by an even more unnatural pallor. 

Seungyoon had expected -- Seungyoon had _known_ that this day was going to be the worst. That each of their meetings would be, in part, an exercise in learning to contain his utter embarrassment. Try Not to Throw Up While Being Painted in Your Underwear 101. He felt cold and stiff all over and his stomach was one hard knot of nerves. 

He looked at Mino. 

He looked at Mino _looking at him_ like Seungyoon was the most daunting vision he had ever laid eyes on, his very own Mount Everest, and in that moment Seungyoon felt more in control than at any time before. He could be calm for Mino, he realized. He could be strong for him like he was for Taehyun. After everything, it was a relief. He smiled, meeting Mino's eyes.

"You look like you're walking to the gallows," he murmured so only Mino could hear. "This is what you're good at, Mino. This is what you love, isn't it?" 

Mino held his gaze for several moments. Then he nodded. 

 

 

 

Mino didn't meet Seungyoon's eyes again. 

Not when Seungyoon first tensed. Not at the sharp intake of breath that he must have heard, that he must have felt. Not when his hands curled into fists. 

The brief glorious moment of calm had passed like the eye of a tornado. Seungyoon wasn't calm anymore. He felt like he was about to throw up. 

He lifted one hand to grab Mino's, to stop the traiterous trail of the brush across his skin. It wasn't his name this time. Nor Mino's. Not rap songs or favorite foods. 

They were his words. Thick hateful black lines stark against his skin for everyone to see. Nothing to hide them, no music to drown them in. 

He could see the tension in Mino's body, mirroring his own. He still stubbornly refused to look up. Seungyoon wanted to scream at him. He reached out to pluck the brush out of Mino's hand but Mino slanted the brush out of his reach and his free hand intercepted Seungyoon's. 

Mino grabbed his hand, interlaced their fingers and held on. They squeezed each other's hands so tight Seungyoon feared they might break their fingers. 

He didn't let go. 

 

 

 

Mino painted ice and then he painted until the ice melted and Seungyoon's entire body was alight in a kaleidoscope of flames in reds and purples and greens and blues. His skin was an inferno and a universe of colors and Seungyoon needed a full orchestra to account for them all. 

One by one 

in the swell of the music the words winked out like stars. 

 

 

 

Kang Seungyoon was a universe empty of words with a skin-colored handprint between his fingers. 

He wished that was how the world worked. 

 

 

 

"Do you think I'm beautiful now?" Seungyoon asked. He angled his chin up and caught his eye in the mirror. Mino stepped closer and fitted his hand over the patches of skin peeking out between his fingers. Seungyoon watched how the flow of colors continued over Mino's skin. 

"I always think you're beautiful," Mino said. He leaned his chin on Seungyoon's shoulder. Seungyoon wanted to warn him off, tell him his face would stain violet if he kept this up, but also he didn't want to do that at all. Mino chewed on his bottom lip. Seungyoon waited for him to speak because all Seungyoon wanted to say was _no_. 

"I cried when I found your writing," Mino admitted finally, voice soft. Seungyoon barked out a laugh. He couldn't cry now. The paint would run. He wanted to keep himself covered a little longer. 

"I think you're beautiful. So I thought those thoughts were the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. They were mean and unfair." Mino frowned and Seungyoon felt his heart lurch. "I didn't know you thought like that. Before, I mean. Your smile always made me happy. I just wanted you to be happy too," he finished, voice smaller than Seungyoon had ever heard it. Seungyoon swallowed.

"It doesn't work like this."

"I know." Mino squeezed his hand. "But I kept telling you over and over and you never listened so just once, I wanted to try telling you louder." 

"When did you--," Seungyoon started and stopped. He mumbled instead, "I didn't know you cared so much." 

Mino-in-the-mirror gave him a look that was half sadness, half exasperation. He sighed and leaned in to press a quick kiss to Seungyoon's cheek. A smudge of yellow on his lips. Then he took both of Seungyoon's hands in his and turned him around until his back was to the mirror. 

 

 

 

Seungyoon remembered love black on his back. It was days before it had washed off properly. 

 

 

 

Mino covered him in color, hand tight in his own, but beyond that first mad rush of nervous scrawls he'd never turned him around until after he'd stopped painting. 

"It's fine it's finished," he'd muttered and Seungyoon had had other things on his mind than to worry about that. 

 

 

 

Seungyoon remembered love black on his back and almost didn't dare to look over his shoulder. He was afraid to feel... anything. 

Everything. 

 

 

 

Bare skin peaked out through the mess of color but only just. He was almost pressed up against the mirror trying to make out all the words. 

At the base of his neck in light blue, _things Kang Seungyoon doesn't realize despite being a damn genius_. It continued in orange, slanting down his right arm, _you're a gorgeous little shit_. It made Seungyoon almost laugh and sob at the same time, a strange choked noise, because it was more Mino than any sincere-eyed _you're beautiful_ s. 

_Your smile is like sunshine. I want to make you happy just so I can bask in it. So I blame you for ninety percent of the bad jokes I have to make_ , it said in pink and in even smaller scribbles below it, _the remaining ten is so Taehyun makes the constipated face you know the one_. Seungyoon knew the one. Taehyun would make a face, nose wrinkling and Seungyoon would still be laughing because Mino was the funniest person he knew. And Mino would smile, a little smug, and throw an arm around Seungyoon. For a moment Seungyoon would feel like he belonged, instead of always being the one on the outside. 

Mino had drawn a sun on his elbow, all the beams crooked. 

_Who even has legs that beautiful I'm not even a leg man but jesus_ , it said in yellow across his right shoulder blade. Seungyoon could feel his cheeks heat up from sheer embarrassment. It continued, _if I could sit at your feet and paint your legs for the rest of my life I'd be happy_. 

In purple beneath it, _your hands are stupidly nice too though. Especially when you play the guitar_ and _you're so beautiful when you make music I love your passion_. Half underneath it, crooked and even sloppier than the rest so Seungyoon had to squint to make out the tiny strokes, _your hands are nicest when they're holding mine. Even getting arrested wasn't so bad when you were there and I could hold your hand_. It made something in his stomach somersault. 

On his other arm in green, _you sing like, I don't know, an angel. My ears are blessed. Possibly you do know this one already_ and Seungyoon was starting to feel like his cheeks would burn the paint right off. 

On his back, a story in red, condensed into a single line. _I lied, of course, about Taehyun ever needing any saving._  

Seungyoon stared at that one for a long time. They'd asked, more than once, if he wanted to join them when they went out into town. They had. Taehyun with a half smile, cocking his head towards the door. Mino, more rarely, when he was at their dorm, licking his lips, more hinting than offering. Seungyoon had felt awkward and nervous, a third wheel, an obligation. It's fine, he'd always said, you have fun. 

In the curve of the back of his knee, almost hidden between a dozen other compliments and observations and Mino being... Mino, _your mouth is so beautiful it was made for singing and smiling_. The rest of it was smudged. The drag of his clothes, he wondered, trying to twist his leg into a better angle to decipher it. 

_I think about kissing you a lot_.

Or maybe Mino had smudged it, like he had second and third thoughts about writing that particular one. Seungyoon made an embarrassing sound as he shot back up. He bit his lip, continued reading down his legs, tried to focus.

He'd never thought there were so many ways to tell someone you thought they were... nice looking, he settled on. He'd never thought about the shape of his nose before either and he was absolutely convinced his face when he had just woken up was closer to horrifying than charming. 

The very last scrawl, at the bottom of his left leg, only read _thank you_ in thick paint splashing down to his ankle. He wasn't sure for what. Allowing Mino to paint on him, possibly. He could hardly say you're welcome to that, now. Only thank you in return. 

His heart was racing. 

This wasn't the way the world worked, he knew. This wasn't the way his brain worked. 

But there was music in his head, so maybe it was a start. He reached out and curled his fingers, a hundred colors, around Mino's and listened. 

 

 

 

The words sang. 


End file.
